


Sweet Innocence

by Jemisard



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Kink Meme, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Dragon Age Kink meme: <br/>http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=51576949#t51576949</p><p>Dorian notices that Cole is actually quite an attractive young man under the layers of grime and rags and once he's seen it, he can't unsee it, however hard he tries, whatever else he tries to drown it out with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Innocence

It would have been fine if not for the bath.

Dorian had found Cole sitting on the ground near the stables, with a bucket of water drawn from the well and an old cloth that might've been rescued from the heap for burning. Or, more likely and possibly worse, taken from a dead body on their last trip out to Crestwood.

He was using the cold water to scrub at his filthy hands, stained red with blood and black with mud. It was over his arms and face, his clothing rank with the filth of travel and fighting.

He was wet and obviously a bit cold and looked for the world like the miserable cat Dorian had seen in Crestwood, disgustedly trying to clean itself of the area's all permeating dirt.

Dorian took pity. "Hello, Cole. You realise you're never going to get clean like that, right?"

Cole had apparently not realised any such thing, looking up at Dorian with those big, blue eyes and then at his hands. "I'm using water, though. And a cloth."

"Yes, well, that isn't the right sort of cloth and your clothes are so dirty that washing yourself is a bit pointless if you're going to put those clothes back on." He crooked a finger. "Come with me. We're going to get you actually clean and find some clothes that haven't been patched with material from dead bodies."

"This patch was left over from Krem's sewing," Cole protested, pointing to his elbow.

"You're not helping your cause." He didn't want to actually touch Cole, so he used his staff under his elbow to encourage him to stand up. "Follow me. We're getting you a real bath."

Cole followed along after him obediently, still picking at his grimy fingers as though rubbing the mess from hand to hand might improve the situation. "Hot water caresses, wraps around me, soaks deep into the aches and cold-"

"Yes, one of those baths," Dorian agreed. He led Cole down into the heart of the fortress, where the heat that burned the furnaces of Skyhold bubbled through the rocks as deep hot spring pools which had been carved and refined centuries ago by whatever old inhabitants this place had had.

Dorian went to a pool down the end, small and private, and nodded at the water. "Right, strip out of those clothes, including the hat, and leave them by the side of the pool. I'm going to go and get you some clean clothes and some good soaps and we'll see if we can encourage some of that ingrained dirt to leave you."

Given clear instructions, Cole was happy enough to do as he was told and started stripping off his clothing, starting with his shoes and hat.

Dorian couldn't help the fond smile. There was something so endearingly innocent about Cole, his lack of expectations, his complete lack of embarrassment or shame about things he felt and experienced... He shook his head and went to find Cole some proper soap and something clean to wear.

He tried not to be too long collecting the items and coming back. He was always worried about leaving Cole unsupervised in new situations, he was unpredictable and liable to get himself into trouble.

And despite that trouble, he couldn't help but think fondly of the young... man? Spirit? Whatever he was, he was not _good looking_ , with his too big nose, weak chin and overbite, yet there was something very appealing in his trusting manner and big, blue eyes, which were too often hidden under that hideous hat.

Whatever he felt for Cole, Dorian could never feel affection for the hat. It was hideous.

It was on this thought that Dorian rounded the last corner to the hot spring pool at the back and found his breath briefly stolen.

The back facing him was flushing with the heat of the water, showing the play of strong muscles under porcelain skin. The shoulders were broad and the waist narrow, spine curving into dimples that rested just above the water's edge.

And then he turned around, and it was still Cole, with his ridiculously too long and messy hair and big, wide eyes and too prominent nose, but it was a Cole with a well formed chest and strong arms and water droplets clinging to the trail of pale, fine hair that ran down from his navel to under the water.

He gave a tiny smile, which was a positive grin from him, and sat down on the bench carved into the pool. "It's warm! The heat is trying to crawl into my bones and warm me from the inside."

"Yes, dear boy, hot water will do that for you. Almost as good at warming as fine brandy." Dorian came over to the edge of the pool and set down his various bottles, jars and the clean clothes. "Now, how about you tell me what you think constitutes bathing?"

Cole gave him a confused look, peering intently until Dorian tapped him on the nose with a finger. "Uh-uh, no trying to read the answer off me. Just tell me how you think you should bathe."

"Hm. Smell of death and dirt clings, people's faces wrinkle and relax and don't know why. Varric dips his hands into the river and rubs them together, taking off oil and smoke stains. The Seeker sees my stare. 'Stop staring, you mustn't watch a woman wash,' and she steps around the corner." Cole's imitation of Cassandra's accent was dead on, even if his voice was so much deeper.

"Back on to what I asked," Dorian prompted.

"Water, rub hands together. He sometimes pulls out a cloth and wets it, rubbing over his face to remove the splatters that reached through the helm."

Blackwall. "Cole, you need a much more thorough wash than that. Blackwall has a shield and a lot of armour which gets covered in filth for him and Varric is an archer, he isn't in the thick of everything splattering around like you." No wonder the boy was a constant mess, fighting in the melee and washing off the battle like the mages and archers would.

"And this is more thorough?" He blinked up at Dorian through his hair.

"Yes, it is. Or it will be, by the time we're finished. Cold water is acceptable for a brisk rinse off out in the wilds, but it certainly isn't proper bathing. Proper bathing means hot water, good soaps and paying some time and attention to one's self." He handed over a fresh piece of soap, still bearing the press stamp. "This is now yours. Keep it safe and use it any time you bathe."

"All mine?" Cole looked at the piece of soap in his hands like Dorian had just bestowed him with the crown jewels of Orlais.

"Yes, all yours." Dorian almost patted him. Almost.

Almost, because his hair was in need of a wash almost as badly as the rest of him. "All right, you need to be entirely wet. Duck into the water, come back up and we'll try and get your hair clean."

Cole slipped under the water, surfacing quickly and gasping. "My face is hot!"

He was ridiculously cute at times, Dorian mused. "Again, that would be the hot water thing, Cole."

"I know." And he did, Dorian had no doubt, but such simple things made him so happy, it was like he couldn't contain so much excitement that he world could feel good to him.

And now he'd thought that... it was incredibly sad. "You never had much in the way of luxury, did you?"

"I don't understand." He sank into the water, eyes closing and hands moving back and forth underwater.

"Luxuries. You haven't had a lot of chance to experience them." He pulled off his own boots and rolled up his trousers, sinking his feet into the heat with a soft sigh. "That's nice."

"I don't need them."

"That's why they're luxuries. Because you don't need them. They're still nice to enjoy." He leaned back on his hands, kicking his feet slowly through the water. "Most people can remember something that was a little bit of luxury in their lives. Now, admittedly the standards for luxury for a farmer and for someone such as myself are very different, but we still both have our luxuries."

Cole hummed and came to sit again, leaning his head back on the stone, water trickling from his hair in damp patterns. "I've had a bath in hot water?"

"Not yet, you haven't. You've just sat in the water." And he decided. "Come here, I'm going to wash your hair for you."

Cole looked confused, but didn't argue, offering up the soap to Dorian, who shook his head. "No, we're going to use something much kinder on your hair."

"I like kinder," Cole murmured. 

Dorian made an absent sound of agreement and tugged Cole to sit between his knees and feet. "Stay there, tilt your head back a little so you don't get shampoo in your eyes."

There was no hiding the fact that Cole's hair was in terrible condition. It was whisper fine and mistreated by weather, hat and rough washing. Still, Dorian was gentle, massaging shampoo through the strands and rubbing Cole's scalp in a slow massage.

Which was fine. Until Cole moaned and arched under him, butting up into his hands.

He knew Cole was responsive. He had no sense of embarrassment and saw no reason not to show his enjoyment. 

He hadn't considered that that might lead to this, Cole moaning under his hands, pushing into his grip. Dorian shifted slightly, making himself focus on other things. How young Cole really was, his childlike ways, the way the heat was flushing his cheeks and neck and chest, visible each time his spine arched and lifted his body partly out of the water.

Abruptly, Dorian drew his hands back, rinsing them off. "Cole, I know you're enjoying this-"

"It's the best I've ever felt," Cole agreed, breathless and looking up at Dorian with wide, bright eyes. "I didn't know bodies could feel good."

And then he'd go and say something like that and Dorian's resolve crumpled again.

"Rinse that off and we'll give it another wash. Your dirt has grime."

The young man slid under the water again, hands coming up to rub through his hair and get out the first round of suds. He surfaced less like an alluring nymph and more with a splutter and heartfelt laugh of enjoyment.

"You're getting me soaked as well," Dorian grumbled, but he knew he'd just live with Cole getting him wet with his splashing. He was enjoying himself so much, it warmed the bitter remains of Dorian's heart. If the view was warming other bits of him...

"You should take off your clothes and get in with me, then."

Dorian cleared his throat. "Maybe not."

"We all shares baths in the river."

"It's not the same. Come back here, I think I'm starting to find your natural hair colour." He pooled more shampoo onto Cole's head and went back to rubbing and washing.

"I'm blonde," Cole said, clearly trying to be helpful.

"Yes. I know. It was a joke about how neglected your hair washing has been." The suds were cleaner this time. One more round and his hair might actually go the pale, white-blonde Dorian suspected it should be in natural light. "Rinse."

Into the water and back out and Dorian worked on giving him a final wash before giving him the soap back. "Wash thoroughly. You don't have to be fast, spend time on it. If it smells, wash it at least twice."

"Everything smells of something." He rubbed the soap in his hands and then started running his hands over his neck and shoulders.

"Then wash everything twice." He couldn't, he really couldn't go into what should be washed more thoroughly. "And when you're done, rinse and dry and put on the clean clothes."

"You're not staying." Cole's hand darted out, catching Dorian's ankle and he half surged from the water, a hand either side of Dorian's hips and too close, far too close and pouring off heat. "Please don't go. I like your company. I like not being alone."

He was so innocent about it, looking confused that Dorian would want to leave, that he wouldn't stay and help and watch and Dorian liked pretty young things, and Cole wasn't pretty, but with his wet hair and sleek skin and muscle, he was certainly close enough to the pretty young men that Dorian favoured.

"Why do you hurt when you think I look nice," Cole asked softly, hands reaching to touch Dorian's face.

"Finish your bath," Dorian managed to choke out. "I need to help Varric finish a truly terrible bottle of port."

He fled before Cole could protest. He had the horrible feeling he wouldn't, because he'd just accept those words on face value.

Dorian was going to a special kind of hell for this.

~~*~~

Dorian helped Varric finish the truly awful port, after which Varric helped him finish the nasty bottle of rum which he'd procured for a smile and a wink in Crestwood, and been charged far too much for now that he'd drunk the stuff.

He didn't dare tell Varric about what he'd noticed. Varric was protective of Cole, especially since he, Solas and the Inquisitor went out with Cole to fix something about an amulet and had come back, a scowl on Solas' face and Cole and Varric weighed down by whatever had happened. Dorian liked Varric, and didn't really want to give the dwarf a reason to start trying out Bianca's newest aiming module on him for having filthy thoughts about the young spirit.

Young. Not in the good way. Not in the way that begged to be taught what pleasure was and how to felt to come apart at the seams with it. Not that sort of young. The sort of young where he thought nothing of trying to half climb into his friend's laps naked, because his world was completely platonic and didn't involve dirty Altus sexually objectifying him.

"Sparkler, I think you've had enough."

"Are you insinuating I'm drunk, Master Tethras?"

"No, no insinuations here. You _are_ drunk, drunk as a lord."

"I am a lord!" Dorian stood up sharply, banging his hand on the table. "Or will be. Was meant to be." He sat down and landed on the floor with a hefty thump. "Some bastard moved my chair..."

"Maybe the chair didn't want to be sat on that heavily," a soft voice suggested.

"Kid. Kid. He's too drunk to get to his room. And he's too tall for me to carry. Get Dorian safely up to his bed, okay?"

Dorian peered up blearily. Above stood a vision of loveliness, all golden halo and alabaster skin against a warm purple tunic.

"I have a tunic just like that," Dorian declared.

"This is your tunic. You told me to wear it after my bath." Strong arms hauled him up and kept him there, despite the best efforts of the floor to buck him off.

He took a deep breath and buried his face into the enticing neck. "You smell good. Like, like honeysuckle and jasmine."

An arm slid under him somehow and he was off the ground now, being held securely against a warm chest. "I'll get him back to his bed. Do you need help getting to bed too?"

"Nah, kid, I can handle my liquor better than Sparkler there. And you look good."

"Thank you. Dorian taught me how to have a proper bath and told me to wear these clothes after because mine are dirty." Cole's voice rumbled through Dorian's head, where his ear was pressed to his chest.

"He's right. Take him to bed, before you get tired of holding him and drop him."

"I won't drop him. That would hurt." Dorian felt himself shifted slightly and he wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders, mumbling softly in Tevene that he'd really like to sleep wrapped up in arms as strong as this.

"Night, Sparkler."

He thought he said goodnight to Varric, or maybe he just imagined doing so, because the next noise he heard was a door opening and the familiar smells of incense and ink and parchments that told him this was his room.

His bed was soft under his back, but not as warm as being carried. He reached up, feeling heavy and comfortable, and hands caught his, rubbing them softly. "Shh. I'm just taking off your boots. They're not comfortable to sleep in."

He must have dozed again, because then there was a blanket wrapping over him and arms around him and a solid chest with a steady heartbeat to rest his cheek against. It was good, good enough that he just hugged back and let himself pass out completely.

When he came to in the morning, it was to soft fingers stroking his brow, easing away the hangover that had moved in overnight and a soft murmur of Tevene that was low enough to merely soothe.

He sighed softly and relaxed back into the warm body pressed the length of his body behind him. The soothing tingle was almost like a trickle of magic, but it wasn't, not quite.

Spirit healing. It felt like spirit healing. But it wasn't safe to-

"Cole!"

Cole jumped, his hand moving back from Dorian, letting some of the pain rush back. "Yes?"

"Why are you in bed with me?" He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head.

"Because you wanted me to be." Since Dorian had stopped shouting, Cole came close again and slid to press up against Dorian's back with a sinuous, sinful roll.

Dorian managed to bite back the moan that the motion drew. "Cole..."

"Yes, Dorian?" His breath puffed across the back of Dorian's neck, damp and heated.

"You- you can go. I'll be okay."

"But you like this. You'd like us both to be wearing less."

"All right, and that's why you need to leave, Cole." Dorian forced himself to move away from Cole's body. "Now. Go."

"But-"

"No. Out." Dorian pointed at the door, not looking up from the pillow. Not moving from lying on his stomach until he heard the door close again and then rolling onto his back, trying not to think too hard about the innocent cuddling and more about the feel of hard muscle and heat pushing against him as he jerked off furiously with the scent of honeysuckle and kindness still in his nose.

~~*~~

In the end, he went to a place where the discretion was implicit in the price.

It wasn't about sex. One could find, purchase or barter sex from anywhere, from the lowliest gutters to the hallways of the Game in Orlais or Tevinter. What Dorian wanted to buy was a solution to this disturbing obsession he'd developed with an innocent, gentle young man who was in no way knowing about sex except as an abstract.

And catharsis was most often the best cure. So he had waited until he had an excuse to travel out to Val Royeaux and made an appointment with the very demure and charming madam of the establishment in question.

She asked him no questions about him beyond those he'd expect. If he had any illness, if he could pay and did he have a criminal record for violence. Hearing a no, yes and no, she had then settled in with him to detail out what he wanted.

Putting a voice to his desire had been sickening and uplifting. He had little doubt what he wanted was tame by most standards that came to such a place, but the guilt was in his mind, not in the judgment of others.

As per the arrangements of his purchase, he arrived that night to make himself comfortable in the room he had booked for the night. The room was luxurious enough to pass for somewhere he would live in and with the addition of a couple of books and an oil from his personal collection to perfume the room, it was a believable fantasy.

He had settled himself down on the bed and was making progress in a banned book of erotic poetry when there was a soft knock on the door.

His heart went to his throat and his blood to his groin. "Yes?"

The door cracked open and he looked in. Pale gold hair, lean features, pale eyes. "Are you busy?"

"For you, dear boy, I am never too busy." He bookmarked the page and leaned back into the pillows.

The boy came in. It was all too obvious he was not Cole. He was lean, like a dancer, slender and graceful. His hair shone like white gold, well kept and loose and fashionably long. His hands were pale and clean and manicured and his clothes were the sort of 'poor' best suited to a stage rather than genuine poverty.

But, he was a skilled enough actor, all wide, innocent gaze and soft movements. "Can I sit with you?"

"Of course." He patted the cushions and the boy came over, curling up next to him and pressing in close.

It was what he had detailed. Young man, a little touched, innocent and gentle, no sense of personal space and an eagerness to learn all about pleasure that wouldn't be refused. Maybe not exactly right, but so far it was close enough to stir his excitement.

"You like me sitting close to you, Dorian. Would you like me to sit closer?"

"You couldn't sit closer without sitting on me."

"I could do that." The boy moved, a graceful twist and he was straddling Dorian's stretched out legs, shifting in close to rest firm buttocks snug close to Dorian's hips. "Like this. Is this nicer, Dorian?"

"It's very nice," he agreed breathlessly. He took one hand, smooth and unmarked and soft, and kissed the back of it.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I felt like it. Because I think it's a great shame that no one's ever kissed you before."

"My mother kissed me."

"I doubt your mother found you enchanting in the same way I do." He kissed the hand again.

"Show me," the boy whispered. He leaned in close, his mouth small and plush, a rosebud of pink against his pale, clear skin. "Show me how enchanting you find me?"

Dorian tilted his head up to capture that mouth in a kiss. The boy moaned softly and pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Dorian's neck and his legs around his waist to hold him tight and close.

Dorian was fairly sure that Cole's reaction, in a fantasy where he wanted this, would be to shuffle on the spot, wriggle slightly like he was trying to work a kink out of his skin.

This boy, though, he broke the kiss, a faint flush to his cheeks saying that he did actually enjoy it. Dorian might have been buying his time, but he had no intention of this being a selfish affair. Given this chance, he would want to make sure that Cole would have only good memories and reminders of being seduced, of the pleasures a body could give.

He ducked his head to kiss the narrow jaw and the faint hint of hairs under his lips tickled slightly. The boy gasped, clearly letting his every reaction be heard and felt, as though he were this innocent again. "Dorian! It feels- you're making me feel good."

"Ask to let me let you make me feel good," Dorian whispered in the young man's ear, taking the chance to flick his tongue over the shell of his ear.

"Let me... I want to make you feel good, Dorian. Will you let me make you feel good?" A hand was slipping between them, plucking Dorian's tunic open at the throat and then sliding down further.

Dorian caught the hand. "No. Not now. Let me show you how good it can be. You spend so much time making others feel good, let me do this for you." He pushed to flip them over, the boy giving a surprised sound as he landed on his back, hair spilling over the dark pillows and blue eyes blinking up at him.

He was beautiful, no doubt. Too beautiful for the face Dorian closed his eyes to see. Cole wasn't beautiful, not to look at. He was pleasant, but would always be a little too plain to reach beautiful.

No matter. Dorian pushed up the faded, thin shirt to bare pinked and peaked nipples so his mouth could work over them, tongue lapping and lips softly teasing. No biting, not Cole, he'd had enough near pain that this should be sweet and nothing but good and gentle things.

Under him, the boy writhed and moaned, pushing up against Dorian's hands and mouth as he lavished attention onto the thin chest. He gave in to sucking the lightest of marks onto his chest, nothing that would last past the night, just a little variation in his oral exploration.

Long fingers wound into his hair, tugging a little, just enough that Dorian thought of another young virgin he'd taken to his bed, who had to be taught not to pull on hair. He lifted his mouth to let himself glance up. "Not so tight on the hair."

"No." He let go again, reaching up to grab the headboard instead. His hand twisted and worried against the wood, instead of petting and stroking, and there was no soothing litany of the moments shared in the bed before.

Perhaps that was best, really.

"You spend all your time making others feel better, helping their hurts, you should have someone spend time on you. Make you feel better. Let you feel half the goodness you bring the world." He whispered the words between damp kisses, trailing down the flat stomach to the first hairs around his navel.

"You- you want to do that? For me?"

Cole would say 'I don't understand', because he had no shame in his ignorance, nor should he.

"Yes. I do, very much." He dragged his tongue over his navel, suggestively tonguing it. "I'm not really altruistic. I've been watching you. Your grace. Your power. The line of your back when you step out of the bath. Those little dimples in the dip of your spine." He was working the laces open with twitches of magic and thought, hands cradling the slight hips and mouth dipping ever lower. He could feel hardness nudging through the leather pants, up under his chin, and it was gratifying to think that the young man was enjoying being spoiled for once.

"You watched me get out of the bath?" 

He hummed his agreement, using his teeth to pull apart the leather now the lacing was undone. The scent of lust was strong, heavy on his tongue and making his mouth water slightly.

It had been too long, really. No wonder he'd gone mad with lust when he'd been denying himself.

He used his tongue to trace only the very tip of the boy's cock, over the dampness starting to form. The boy moaned, a light sound, and he pushed up for more, such a typical reaction for the inexperienced. It didn't take much to hold him still,, his hands wrapping and holding firmly, anchoring him in place.

He doubted if he could hold Cole in place. The boy had surprising strength in him and he'd probably be able to buck despite Dorian's grip. He wouldn't, though. He'd want to be considerate, to not make Dorian uncomfortable.

"Don't worry about bucking. I'll stop you choking me. Just enjoy it. Let yourself feel good." he ducked down again, sliding the head between his lips and moaning softly, suckling gently.

The boy's moan and push were heartfelt, and Dorian was quietly smug that he hadn't lost his touch. He went lower, letting his eyes sink shut and his lips stretch further, sucking with more enthusiasm.

"Dorian!" A hand landed in his hair again and he didn't have the heart to pull away to untangle it and just let it remain, tugging not too hard.

It was experience to shift his weight, using his forearm across the bony hips to pin them down while he used his newly freed hand to stroke along what length he couldn't swallow. The boy moaned again but Dorian focused on what he was doing, on letting the head of his cock brush the back of his throat so that his own soft moan reverberated through his length, drawing another sound of pleasure.

It was an old, familiar dance, done between people for thousands of years and he loved every moment of it. The slide of hot, velvety skin between his lips, the hardness that didn't quite yield as he sucked and pulled upwards. The breathy moan and pants from his lover were a sweet music for their dance, his own heartbeat racing and breaths pulled into rhythm by his suckle and push down along the hard length.

He didn't want a marathon of sex, didn't expect it from someone inexperienced, but it still wasn't a quick affair to reduce the boy to ragged sounds. It took the press against the back of his throat and his own hand sliding low and cupping, squeezing, letting the faintest tingle of magic dance over his fingers before the boy was coming with a gasp of Dorian's name that was just a hint too reserved to be right but was still satisfying.

Dorian pulled back, almost choking before he drew away, hands stroking hard and firm in apology for not staying there and sucking until the end, but for all the fantasy, he simply wasn't prepared to do that for a stranger.

The boy certainly didn't mind, arching and shifting as he was stroked through his release, Dorian's clever fingers rubbing last sharp movements of pleasure and a shiver of satisfaction from him. Dorian glanced up at him, his flushed cheeks and parted lips and heavy lidded gaze, hair sweaty across his brow and there was a fondness for sharing the moment of pleasure but...

"Dorian?"

He smiled slightly and lay down next to the boy, all rumpled clothes and debauched and wide eyed. "Yes, my dear boy?"

"That felt very good. Can I do that to you?"

He brushed his fingers over the smooth cheek. "I don't think you should jump straight into it like that. You'll choke yourself, and I don't want that." He took one hand, stroking along the palm. "Use your hand. I'll show you how."

"All right. So long as you show me how to do that for you later. Promise?"

"I promise." He drew the hand down and into his own loose trousers, curling his fingers. "Later. This is more than enough for now. This will make me feel good, too."

The boy's hand was smooth and soft, but his grip was firm and confident and it was just too much. Dorian pulled him away. "I'm sorry. It's not... right."

The boy seemed to realise that this wasn't part of the script. This wasn't the token protest of "I don't want to sully you' but discomfort. "What would make it right?" He brought his hand to rest on Dorian's hip, moving in against him in a manner that was a little suggestive, but completely in keeping with his character.

Dorian could admire that sort of wit, to keep character in the face of the client breaking with the script. "I don't know."

The boy was quiet a moment and then sat up enough to strip off his shirt and kick off his pants. He lay down on one side, back to Dorian and clearly inviting Dorian to curl around him. "I like when you hold me. You like cuddling me too. You could cuddle me. With your clothes off."

His gratitude was possibly undeserved, but Dorian followed the suggestion eagerly, undressing and pulling the blankets up around them as he pressed in close against the lean body. His knees tucked neatly behind the boy's and he wrapped his arms around him to hold him close, his own heavy cock nudging to rest between those sweetly curved buttocks.

"Is this nice for you too, Dorian?" He wriggled as he said it, rolling to push against Dorian. 

Dorian gave an appreciative groan and met the movement. "Yes, it's very nice. Keep doing that."

They settled into a slow, steady rhythm, Dorian more pulling the boy back into his arms and body than actually pushing into him. However old the boy actually was, he was young enough that he started to stir with interest again as Dorian's movements grew stronger and faster, his hardening cock brushing Dorian's fingers where they clutched against his hips.

Dorian found himself pushing his lover more to the bed, under him so he could buck and rub against him, between his cheeks, while having the space to press kisses over his shoulders and back as he fucked against him. The boy was starting to pant again, soft sounds of enjoyment as the movements rubbed him against the bed and if he moved a hand to touch himself, Dorian couldn't blame him for doing so, not when he was too occupied with the damp kisses and sweat slick heat of his body.

Coming was almost a painful relief, pushing hard and close and not letting himself say names, just a breathed exclamation in Tevene before he sank down against his lover. A couple of movements and he moved his hand, to stroke and help push him over the edge into another sobbed orgasm.

Dorian curled around the young man and held onto him. He didn't want sweet after kisses or talk.

They were both worn out enough to just sleep.

When Dorian woke up, he'd been cleaned up a bit in his sleep and the boy was back in bed with him, stroking his hair back from his brow.

"What time-"

"You have a little while longer to enjoy, if you want to sleep," the boy said. When he wasn't speaking in the breathy play acting voice, he had a slight accent and a deeper voice than Dorian would've immediately presumed on seeing him.

"Mm. No. I think I'm awake." He rolled onto his back and stretched. "You were very good."

"Thank you. You were a very easy man to be good for." He gave a warm smile that highlighted just how beautiful he was, how incredibly human and lovely. "I'm not used to clients wanting to spoil me."

Dorian hummed noncommittally, closing his eyes and enjoying being warm in bed with someone.

"You know... if you treat him half as sweetly as you treated me, your touched young man would be very lucky to have you." The young man leaned over and kissed him, the once, on the mouth. "I think I would be very lucky to get to have you."

His mouth was slightly dry and he didn't respond to the kiss with half the enthusiasm he probably should've. "It- how?"

"The ones like this? They're always real people. And the fact that you'd come to me rather than risk hurting him tells me he'd be lucky to have you."

Dorian watched him get out of bed and collect his clothing from the night before.

"If you ever want to come back, I'd welcome it. As your touched boy or myself."

"Thank you," Dorian heard himself say, just before the door closed between them and he cursed his foolishness for ever coming here.

~~*~~

For all his hopes that a night of indulging his obsession might help, Dorian found that things were worse than ever.

Before, he had simply thought, not too hard on the specifics, just on what he saw and might feel.

After his night with the lovely young man, he not only thought about what might happen, but drew comparisons, corrected things in his mind. Cole would be less overtly sexual but almost inevitably less restrained, just soaking and enjoying and reacting as was completely natural to him. He wouldn't have to ask if things were okay, he would know the moment there was the slightest hint of upset.

And because he had something to draw comparisons to, it was not just the occasional fantasy at night. It was a constant thought, of those strong, calloused hands and the sharp, knowing, innocent gaze.

Varric commented that he was preoccupied, but kindly said nothing about the increased amount of wine that found its way into Dorian's glass during their evening talks. Cullen noted that he was cheating less and losing more, which was a shameful state of affairs, really.

He avoided Cole. Or rather, he avoided talking to him. He found too many chances to sit and watch him, while he play fought with the Chargers, or wandering the fortress helping people.

Just once, he'd found him in the hot springs, rubbing soap suds over his arms and shoulders slowly. Dorian had backed out just before Cole looked up, hiding around the corner and trying to not feel his guilt briefly until Cole turned back to his bathing.

He never should've taught him to bathe.

Eventually, he shut himself into his bedroom, watching down onto the courtyard from the window. He did enjoy watching Krem and Skinner training together, her knives and his sword flashing against one another.

There was a knock on the door. He ignored it. The door was locked and the room should seem empty.

He wondered if a night would Krem would do any serious harm to either of them. It would be nice to spend some time with another escapee from Tevinter, and even if they didn't get up to much, it might be a pleasant diversion.

The door opened and a blonde head popped in.

"That door was locked for a reason, Cole," Dorian sighed softly.

"It didn't mind letting me in once I explained you needed me." He stepped in, closing the door behind him.

Dorian had no idea if that was literal or a metaphor for how Cole picked locks. Either was just as likely, frankly. "I need you, do I?"

"Yes." Cole came over, sitting down next to Dorian, perching on the edge of the windowsill. "You're hurting and you don't need to. You've been avoiding me, because it makes the guilt heavy in your belly and sour in your mouth."

Dorian could taste that guilt now. "You don't understand, Cole. You can't help this."

"Yes, I can. If you let me." He slid from the windowsill onto Dorian's lap, and it was like that boy, only this weight was solid with muscle and work, thighs heavy and tight from months of walking and climbing and fighting, the soft scent of honeysuckle whispering around them.

"Cole, no. You don't understand what you're offering. What it means." He tried to push, but Cole was an immoveable object in his lap.

"I do. I'm offering you sex, with me. You think about my body, and then you think about me, and you hurt because you think I'm sweet and innocent and pure and that's sexy to you as well." His hands came up to touch Dorian's face, rough calluses stroking his skin.

"No, Cole, this isn't okay." He caught Cole's hands and pulled them from his face. "This, whatever you think it is, it can't happen."

"You feel ashamed that he looked like me, but not enough like me that it soothed the ache of your want." Cole leaned in close, studying Dorian's face. "You shouldn't be."

"I should be. I should feel guilty enough to stop, but I don't." He tried to lean back, to get some distance. "I can't."

"You shouldn't feel guilty. You think I'm like a child, but I'm not. I just haven't experienced as many things as you. But I've experienced things you haven't."

"This isn't about experience, it's about capability, Cole. Being attracted to someone like you, someone who doesn't feel attraction, who doesn't know about sexuality, it's wrong. It's like... it's like being attracted to children!"

Cole didn't move through Dorian's outburst. "Do you think I look like a child, Dorian?"

Dorian closed his eyes, tipped his head back against the top of his chair. "No. That's the problem."

"I'm not a child. I'm older than the trees that make the new beams here."

"You've been human for less than three years."

"Cole was sixteen. He liked to watch the villagers wash in the river, when they were all down there together. He'd try to focus on his own body, but he couldn't help but notice."

"He wasn't you. You don't feel attraction."

Cole dipped his head and softly kissed Dorian's mouth. It wasn't the knowing kiss of the whore, it wasn't pretending to be inexperienced while being filthy. It was soft and slightly damp and warm and Cole's nose bumped Dorian's cheekbone.

"Cole. No."

"You don't mean no. You mean 'I want this, but I don't want to sully you'." He whispered it against Dorian's mouth. "I want to do this with you."

"You don't know what you want. You don't know what it means."

"Sex doesn't _mean_ anything. I want to share this with you. You want it."

"That's not reason enough. I want it, you don't."

"Dorian." Cole's voice was firm, certain. "I want to because you want to, and I think it would be very nice. I came to you. You're not making me do this. I'm choosing to share this with you. I've picked you."

And if Dorian thought that the sexy young man playing at being Cole was a turn on, it was nothing compared to being confronted with the real thing, confident in ways he was never expected to be, determined and demanding that Dorian hear his logic about why this wasn't wrong.

And then Cole kissed him again, hand pressing to his jaw and tilting his head up for the ease of the kiss and this time Dorian fell, charged head first over the line into the damnation of giving in to his wants.

He met the kiss, surging up against Cole's weight and teasing his lips open with a tongue. Cole responded eagerly, squirming like an excited puppy in his lap and licking Dorian's tongue as it pushed into his mouth.

Dorian wasn't strong enough to stand up with Cole in his lap, but he thought about it and then Cole was crawling backward, hands twisted into his robes and pulling Dorian after him so he didn't have to stop kissing him. It was messy and heated, Cole's enthusiasm and inexperience yielding finally to Dorian's more knowledgeable kisses, softening to let Dorian control them and show Cole how it could feel.

Dorian took them to the bed, guiding with nudges of his body and the tilts of his head to get Cole to move how he wanted. He plucked his hat from his head and tossed it onto his desk, fingers coming to brush through the white gold, fine hair.

Cole went back onto the bed with a soft push, landing on his back and looking up at Dorian. His eyes looked dark with his pupils wide with want and extra blue contrasted about the blush across his cheeks and down his neck. His mouth wasn't a little, plush rosebud but wide and full and well defined and reddened with kissing.

He wasn't beautiful, yet he was the most wonderful, sexy creature Dorian had had in his bed.

"Thinking isn't _doing_ ," Cole protested. He wriggled on his back, reaching up for Dorian and Dorian came close, taking his hand letting himself be pulled down onto him. Cole's body was solid and strong under him, broad and unyielding in all the right ways.

"You couldn't make me do anything," Cole said softly. "I'm stronger than you. I'm bigger than you. You can't force me. You aren't forcing me."

And he was, bigger, stronger, and Dorian could undoubtedly manipulate him but he just wanted to make him feel good, to make him come undone under his hands and mouth and forget about everyone's troubles and hurts and just enjoy something for himself.

"Wanting to make me feel good doesn't mean you're forcing me to do anything either."

Dorian groaned and kissed Cole hard, pressing him down into the bed and rocking his body into the young man's. Cole gasped into the kiss and made a sharp sound that Dorian chose to believe was pleasure, since Cole's hands grabbed him and pulled him impossibly closer to roll against him.

There was no real grace to their grappling, just hands grasping and pulling each other as felt good while their lips and tongues moved together deep, messy kisses that broke on occasion for breaths. Quickly, their kisses became more stuttered, for Cole to laugh and cry out with pleasure and for Dorian to take the chance to nip at his jaw and chin, occasionally at his lips because he swore he wouldn't ever bite Cole, but Cole seemed to love the difference between soft, damp kisses in little, light teasing nips.

"Dorian!"

It was cried with no regard for being overheard, no restraint of the volume when he was clearly more interested in pleasure than being quiet.

"Yes, Cole," Dorian murmured into the hinge of his jaw. He sucked on Cole's earlobe, drawing a full body shudder.

"It aches, hot, hard, heated, body tingling, it aches, but it doesn't hurt, it aches." His words were spoken to the ceiling, eyes a little glassy with lust.

"Shh. I'll make it feel better."

"It feels good _now_." Like the idea that there was more beyond this was inconceivable. Maybe it was to Cole. It wouldn't be soon.

"It'll feel _better_ soon." He sat up a little, sliding Cole's shirt up to bare his stomach and chest. Cole didn't react for a moment, but then he lifted himself up to take it off the rest of the way, dropping it aside.

"Less clothes is good for this, right? The mages didn't used to undress, but the Inquisitor and Cullen do."

"Less clothing is good. People leave their clothes on when they have to hurry. Or it's very cold. While we have a nice fire going and all the time you want."

"I don't want to take a long time." He squirmed on the bed, uncomfortable and wanting. "But I want to do this again. With you."

"Decide that after," Dorian said. He lowered his head to press a wet kiss to one pink nipple, shivering at the surprised little noise Cole made in response. Encouraged, he tried a very light bite, just a hint of teeth and Cole made another happy noise, wriggling under Dorian.

He tried to bite a small mark onto the strong muscles of Cole's chest but Cole made a sound and twisted to shift Dorian back to near his nipple. "I like that," he gasped out. "Back there. It makes it ache more, but better."

It would be cruel to tease too much. He was inexperienced and already so overstimulated by the whole thing. The first touch on his cock was liable to have him coming and Dorian wanted that, but he wanted to work Cole right up to the very edge of pleasure before then.

"Dorian, I'm too hot, too full, everything's boiling over, I might burst open." Cole grabbed for him, panting softly.

"It's all right, that's normal." He eased Cole's pants down, careful to not touch him yet, until he had him bare on his bed.

It wasn't at all like that delicate, waif like boy. This was lean, long muscle, not quite grown into yet, just young enough that he had filling out to do and old enough that he was very clearly not a boy anymore. The blush worked down his neck to his chest and spread across his freckled shoulders. It nearly touched the trail of hair that traced down his stomach to his full, reddened cock.

Dorian heard himself groan and started throwing off his robes, eager to feel Cole skin to skin against him.

"I want you to hold me. Like you did him." Cole's words were slightly cracked, his voice not entirely steady.

"I was going to show you something that felt much nicer," Dorian promised him, crawling back up the length of his body.

"No. I don't want you to make me feel nice. I want to share this with you." He reached up, hands resting softly on either side of Dorian's neck. "You can show me more later. I don't want this to be about you showing me how to feel good. I want _us_ to feel good." He lifted his head, kissing at Dorian's mouth more than actually kissing him. "Please."

Dorian groaned and nodded, pushing Cole's legs apart. "Wrap your legs around my hips." This was easy, giving Cole the intimacy he craved and Dorian the leverage to control things.

Strong legs wrapped and then pulled him in close. Their cocks rubbed, pre-cum and sweat slicking the movement and Cole gave another cry and moan, back arching to move together.

With his spine so beautiful curved upwards, Dorian couldn't resist leaning to mouth at his chest once more, his hips rocking against Cole's, flush and heavy against him.

It took only a couple of rocks and a wet suck on a nipple to have Cole giving a shout that was almost panic and largely shocked pleasure, his whole body jerking roughly in Dorian's arms as he came. For a moment, just a moment, Dorian felt like he could almost feel the intensity of learning what pleasure was in such a direct way, with no previous experience to anything really feeling good in the same way.

For a moment, he fancied that Cole almost glowed as he was coming, head tipped back and barely breathing, his body moving outside of his control as he painted between their bodies with thick come and started to relax into a dead weight.

No longer having to held support that strained arch, Dorian smoothed his hands over Cole's sweaty chest and up his face, brushing back his hair from his eyes and brow.

"Not enough," Cole murmured. "It simmers, comfortable heat, heavy weight in my arms, his lips are dark with my kisses, I've left that blush on him, that debauched look-"

"Stop that," Dorian admonished softly. "Enjoy what _you_ are feeling."

"Am." Cole wriggled again, pushing his firm buttocks against Dorian's still hard length. "Want to feel you, though. I can feel how I feel, but I want to feel how it feels for you." He rolled his body and Dorian shivered, hands sliding to hold onto his hips.

"I'd be happy to just let you enjoy this moment, you know."

"I know. I want more. More for you." He moved again and Dorian was very aware that Cole could pick up how much he liked it, even without being able to read his mind, because it sent a throb through his prick.

"Well, it is your first time, I suppose I should indulge you your whims," he breathed out, starting up a steady pace. Cole moaned softly, reaching to pet and stroke Dorian's shoulders and biceps, legs looser around his waist but still holding him close despite being obviously tired.

He had been known to tease affairs out for hours, pushing one or both of them to the very precipice of pleasure and then back again, until they were a panting mess of trembling, desperate want. He could use magic to still orgasm, or to provide the lightest, incessant teasing.

It had been a long time since it was this raw and unrefined, two men clasped together and rubbing together in such a ridiculously base, common and intimate way. And his lover had never been a young spirit with heavy lidded eyes who gasped each spike of pleasure he felt as though it were his own.

There wasn't actually a need to put on a performance. Cole expected nothing and knew nothing else and that realisation was a huge weight off of him as he made it, letting him enjoy without thinking about the next day, or what would be said, or what knowing looks might be shared by his lover and others later on.

When he came, clinging to Cole and jerking shakily against him, it was Cole who gave a soft cry, holding back tightly and then chasing him for a kiss that would take a lot more practice to be refined but had plenty of heart and want behind it.

He sank against Cole's body, hugging him close and pressing him down into the mattress. Cole was shivering again, but Dorian suspected it was with the pleasure rather than any possible chill reaching into Dorian's sanctum.

Cole's hands ran along his back, up and down, slow and idle.

Dorian felt like he should say something glib, or charming, or funny.

"You haven't damaged me."

Instead he buried his face in Cole's shoulder and focused on not crying until he was too tired to stay awake. He fell asleep, safe in the cradled embrace of Cole's strong, young limbs and unwavering confidence that Dorian hadn't ruined him.


End file.
